Palos Verdes Marathon

I wish they all could be California races

The Palos Verdes Marathon, at 40 years, is one of the oldest continuous marathons in America. It also happens to be one of the most breathtaking and challenging. "Rolling hills" are deceptively mentioned in the course description, along with "scenic vistas" and "refreshing sea breezes."

I’d PRd the last two consecutive years in the half marathon, so I wasn’t at all optimistic about achieving another one; I was jet-lagged from an overseas business trip, jittery about my first performance as a runner for the new "Team Snickers," and had already mentally sabotaged myself over an upcoming decidedly disagreeable birthday. But as dawn’s light broke over the Pacific Ocean and I got out of my car in the parking lot by the charming and beautifully preserved Point Fermin Lighthouse, I was immediately assaulted by the cool, crisp sea air and salty aroma wafting in over the waves. Perfect Southern California springtime racing conditions and an undeniably gorgeous course. Would I get to see dolphins or seals, I wondered. I’d have a great morning, PR or not. I figured, if nothing else, today would be a good 13.1 mile hill-training run.

Since it was the 40th anniversary of the marathon, it seemed like there were many seasoned pros, eager to preserve their legacy. The oceanside park atmosphere, with landscaped gardens and trails to the ocean and tidal pools, lent itself to spectators, families, couples and running groups.

The marathon started promptly at 7 a.m., but a clear majority of runners, like me, were there for the 7:30 a.m. half, arguably the most fun and popular distance for organized races these days. By the time the crowd started to spread out around mile 1.5, the biggest hill on the course appeared like Goliath to David, amping up the elevation from 98 to a colossal 308 feet. I kept my eyes straight ahead and breathed in deeply. At first I thought I smelled somebody’s mentholated muscle rub, but I realized it was the heady perfume from all the eucalyptus trees that seemed to line every street. Fragrant blooming jasmine also mingled with the scent and the aforementioned salty air. This could have been called The Aromatherapy Half Marathon.

After conquering that first hill, the ones that followed seemed less daunting, and I contentedly chugged along and drank in the amazing sights of nature: the pounding sea and craggy cliffs on one side, the majestic mountains of San Pedro on the other. The air was crystal clear, although mercifully the sun had yet to break through, and even the most serious of runners seemed to be smiling. A sign warned "Rattlesnake Area — Give them Respect and Distance." Good advice.

After the turnaround, runners already knew what to expect from the hills. The declines we’d enjoyed after mile 2 may have turned into inclines, but it didn’t matter; they were old friends through this runner’s paradise. And coming down from that steep elevation (which was now mile 10) may have been a challenge for the "braking system" of our quads, but resulted in a childlike sensation of flying that was as much fun to run as anything else I’ve ever tried.

Overhead, the first rays of the sun began to break through the morning marine layer with celestial beams of light spilling down dramatically. Classical organ music would not have seemed out of place. I was grinning like an idiot, I know, but this was MY "runner’s high." That’s when I noticed the Pagoda on the hill. The finish line. I checked my watch and put on a little extra burst of speed.

Much to my surprise and delight, I got another new PR. I’ll most likely go through all the same prerace anxiety, excuse-making and pessimism again next year, but the point is, I will be back to run it again. Do yourself a favor and plan to join me.

Nelson Aspen is a Hollywood TV Entertainment and Lifestyle Reporter. Read about his projects, check out his running log and future marathon plans at his website: www.nelsonaspen.com